Against the Clock
by Miaka
Summary: Her name is Anna. That, and the fact that she attends the masquerade ball every night, are the only things she remembers. A Hansanna one shot inspired by the movie Labyrinth (but not exactly a crossover). Dream, post-canon or AU...totally open to interpretation. Cover image by tumblr's tamsolo/FFnet's Tamarai (THANK YOU! :D)


She stands at the entrance to the mirrored ballroom, feeling rather like a sea green flower with the way the other guests study her from behind glittering masks. The moment passes when she steps inside. Then, the guests return to their little groups, chattering or dancing respectively. Their presence is a steady hum, interrupted by the occasional elegant laugh.

Her name is Anna. That, and the fact that she attends the masquerade ball every night, are the only things she remembers.

She is the only one whose face is not hidden. It always makes her feel...vulnerable. How and _why_ does she come here?

But the sound in the room is otherworldly—peculiar flutes and strings she has never heard before. As the music settles over her, she relaxes and lets the guests on the floor pass her from dancer to dancer. She twirls across the room, her skirt blossoming around her.

One gentleman in a feathered hat launches Anna from his hands a little more quickly than she's prepared for, and she stumbles into another young dancer. Anna falls back, certain she is going to hit the floor—

But the Admiral grabs her hand and pulls her up to safety.

"Glad I caught you."

Anna's cheeks grow hot as her eyes drink him up from his black boots, his cream colored blazer to the gold and red epaulets ornamenting his shoulders. His red sash covers the pale shirt beneath his blazer, complementing his cream ascot. She can't help admiring his red hair and dashing sideburns and... well, they are difficult to see well beneath his black-and-white harlequin mask, but she decides his eyes are _dreamy_.

They bow and curtsy to one another before he holds out his hand, inviting her to dance. Anna smiles as they begin to move around the room, a familiar melody taking over the previous song. The new tune is the one that plays whenever she bumps into him at the ball.

Their bodies glide and flutter across the ballroom floor in perfect synchronization. In a euphoric daze, Anna can't help but feel it's because their bodies were made for each other. She blushes at the thought, suddenly conscious of all the eyes in the room. She and the Admiral have become the center of attention.

The Admiral twirls her under his arm and pulls her into him, her back against his front. His breath tickles the base of her neck; this makes her quiver. Suddenly, Anna feels too heavy for her own knees. Her face becomes flushed as he rocks her from side to side, his arms pinning hers to her sides. Then, just when Anna's sure she's going to implode—and ruin a perfectly good ball gown—he twirls her out again and they start up a waltz.

Too soon, she thinks, _That was close!_

She may be free of the Admiral's arms, but she still finds herself a prisoner of his gaze. Can she help it?

No, she decides. His green eyes beneath the mask are bewitching. Predatory, even.

A clock chimes somewhere and Anna falters. She finds the device after turning her head to search. It's almost midnight.

She's forgetting something, but what?

The dancing slows as she hears the second chime. She starts to let go of the Admiral's hand, but he squeezes and pulls her near.

Another song starts up and they're off, dancing again. Anna glances up and all around her. Mirrors and lights everywhere.

There's something she's forgetting. But what? The clock chimes again.

The Admiral gently leads her through the motions as he re-captures her gaze. She thinks she imagines it at first. But no, he _is_ lowering his face toward hers.

For a moment, she watches his eyes shut as his face closes in. Her heart feels like a small, wild thing beating uncontrollably in her chest.

His lips are painfully close when the clock chimes a fourth time.

Anna puts a hand on his chest, stopping him. She tilts her head as he opens his eyes, confused.

There's something familiar about the Admiral, but she can never recall what.

The clock strikes a fifth time.

She holds the Admiral still as she studies his lips, imagining how they would feel upon her own. Soft? Harsh? Sweet and tender? She licks her lips at the thought of that missed kiss. He smiles when he sees her do it.

But then the cursed clock goes off again.

"What's wrong, Anna?" he asks.

And _oh_ , her name rolls off of his tongue and she squirms away from him with a shiver. Had someone opened a window? Why is it so cold all of a sudden? She wants to dance more with him, to have his warm hands on her as they whirl across the ballroom.

The clock chimes a seventh time.

The cold... yes, it was cold...

There's something she has to remember.

"Anna?"

 _Stop it!_

She wishes he would stop that. Every time he says her name, she falls right back under his spell. She looks into his eyes the color of eternal summer.

But it's cold here, cold as winter.

The clock chimes.

 _Elsa_...

Anna feels the Admiral's fingers on her chin, gently lifting her face toward his. He smiles—it is not a kind smile, but the kind a master gives the thing he owns—and leans in to...

"You have no power over me," she whispers. Finally, she remembers.

The Admiral freezes, no longer smiling as he drops his hand and scrutinizes her.

Again, the clock chimes.

"So close," he says. He does not stop her as she reaches out to remove his mask.

They stare at one another, oblivious to the chaos the ballroom around them has become as the other guests begin bickering among themselves over whether or not Anna will stay.

The clock chimes a tenth time.

Hans. How could she forget?

"You have no power over me," she repeats, as if once wasn't true enough.

The clock chimes once more.

Anna forces herself not to flinch as Hans reaches for her, his fingertips dancing across her lips.

"Maybe next time," he says. The way he says it sounds like a promise.

The clock-

* * *

"Anna!" Elsa yelled for the third time, flopping a pillow over her sleeping sister's head.

Anna squealed and jumped up, her wide eyes darting around the room as if in doubt of her surroundings.

"Yeesh! You sleep like the dead! I thought you'd never wake up," Elsa grumbled.

Anna gave her sister a lazy grin and stretched her arms up over her head. Her body was sore, especially her feet, as if she'd been dancing all night. She didn't share the nagging thought at the pit of her stomach. Instead, she cracked a joke about Elsa's snoring. She was rewarded with another pillow to the face.

 _Maybe next time, I won't_.

* * *

 **Enchanting cover image by tumblr's tamsolo/FFnet's Tamarai (THANK YOU! :D)**

 **A/N:** wahhhh, what did I just do?! Interpret as you will, whether this is post-canon or AU where Hans is some creepy Jareth-esque guy trying to trap Anna in her dreams. :D It's not my best, I was giving in to a weird, Labyrinthy whim.

Her constantly thinking about what she's forgetting is supposed to be that feeling you get when you're dreaming and vaguely know you are but are not 100% aware of it.


End file.
